


Death is Introspective

by SugaryFeline



Category: El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera
Genre: Child Mental Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot to Rule the World, References to Depression, Things get better?, dead fandom, mentions of manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6518164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugaryFeline/pseuds/SugaryFeline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Django just wants to finally prove himself to his family.</p>
<p>Manny is the wrench thrown into everything.</p>
<p>Frida secretly ships it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Windows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fandom seriously needs more Gay. I’m am here to provide.  
> I’ve tried to stay true to the show with its Spanish culture, but seeing as I’m not Spanish, I may have messed a few things up. Please, if you spot something, point it out.  
> Also, ratings may go up in later chapters. Not by much, but look out.

It was bleak.

The stunted wasteland was barren of anything resembling life. The few cactuses that grew weren’t actually alive, just caricatures of what once was. The hard earth was nothing more than a packed surface. Little bits of sand collected in divots left from millennia ago. There was nothing forgiving about the way the landscape stretched across the horizon, lifeless in its approach to the beyond. The constant stream of unbroken light faded the dirt, making it look as dead as it was. The sun hung from a distance, caught between the earth and what some considered the sky.

But that wasn't a sky above. The inky darkness that loomed over all was filled with tiny lights, glittering in the distance. The lights broke up the monogamous color but did little to comfort the harsh reality of the cage above. The desert was nothing short of bleak.

I hated it.

“Django, you will make yourself depressed again,” Madre said, passing by my bedroom door. She didn't wait for a response, and I heard the door down the hall click shut. The sound carried in the unmoving environment of my house.

I sighed.

“Yes, Madre,” I muttered under my breath, moving away from the windowsill I was propped up on. I moved farther into the room, sitting down on the hard wooden floor. There wasn't much to do but stare at the wall, so I did. The silence was only broken by the noises of my father, somewhere in the basement. He would scream sometimes, but that was quickly cut off. I almost liked the screams. They were at least something to listen to.

My fingers fiddled with the tassels on my poncho. Boredom was slowly creeping in and I looked towards the window again. At least while staring at the lifeless sea of sand I could lament about how awful it was. Before I could move, however, I heard the sound of the door down the hall open.

“You are going to lose muscles if you do not move, Django,” Madre said as she passed by. It was a cutting reminder. I sighed and got up from the floor.

“Yes, Madre,” I muttered. I walked out of my room and followed her as she stepped down the stairs.The main floor of the house was empty, save the dusty furniture. I stared at the floor as I walked across the living room and out the back door.

“You have to close the door all the way, Django,” Madre said as she took a seat in one of the reclining chairs. She opened the book she had carried from her room, and I sighed yet again.

“Yes, Madre.” It was like a mantra on my lips, repeating over and over. I sat in one of the chairs adjacent to her, not close enough to be considered ‘next to’ but close enough to not be rude. I looked up at the roof above me, and closed my eyes. It was easy to forget about the surrounding world, the dreariness that persisted throughout the land. It was harder to ignore the presence of Madre near me.

She didn't speak. She didn't move. She didn't even breathe. The soft sound of a page turning in her book felt like knives slicing through the stillness of the area. She commanded the knives, forced the silence to submit to her, and then commanded the silence when the knives were worn and broken.

It was daunting how much power she held in the small space she occupied. I felt myself shiver thinking about the damning force that was Madre. It wasn't pleasant.

I quickly redirected my thoughts, not wanting to revisit the images of her might. I itched to be doing something, preferably something  _ productive _ , but anything would do at this point. I desperately wanted to ask Madre if something would happen today. If she would decide for something to happen. But I kept my mouth forcibly shut. She was reading, and as much as I longed to be doing something with my time, it would be rude to interrupt.

As if reading my thoughts, she spoke. “Sartana is coming over today.” I jolted at the loud sound of her voice, but quickly settled myself again.

“Will she be training me again?” I felt the familiar joy come over me. If there was one thing good in this underworld, it was Nana Sartana. She was boisterous and cutting, but there was also softness within her. She was nothing like Madre.

And on the days I was able to train with her, I could feel the pride she would give. There was nothing better than getting a rewarding pat on the back after crushing several enemies with only my bare hands. It was all for when I obtained my mystic guitar. I had to be ready.

“No.”

My proverbial heart dropped the slightest bit. If she wasn't coming to train me, then she was coming for Father. I decided not to give Madre a reply.

I shut my eyes again, blocking out everything. It was easier without the thoughts of Madre swimming in my head.

Time passed slowly. In the hours -probably no more than seven- that passed, I decided that I hated time. I had already disliked it before, but the constant annoyance that came with it passing so slowly pushed ‘dislike’ into ‘hatred’. I had no clocks, no watches, nothing to measure the seconds that passed or the time of day. Not that it would matter with the sun stuck in its battle to fall below the horizon.

I heard the horses long before I heard Madre getting up from her seat. I waited until I heard the back door close before shooting up from my seat and running around the side of the house. I made it to the front porch before Madre open the front door. I heard a scoff but didn't turn around. The carriage was slowly coming closer, the horses at full speed, but the desert stretched as far as it could. I tapped my shoe against the dark earth.

“Do not be rude, Django,” Madre said from behind me. I stopped tapping my foot and stood a little straighter, not that Nana would care. She was old and traditional, but she didn't take rudeness as a slight against her. I could say or do whatever I wanted around her, so long as it wasn't meaningfully harsh. Madre, on the other hand….

The carriage came to a stop in front of the house, the horse whining at the sudden stop. I stood still as the door opened and Nana stepped onto the ground.

“Django, my dear,” she reached out with bony arms. I stepped into her embrace as best I could while still keeping my posture. She let go of me and stepped up to the house.

“Mujer.”

“Sartana.”

I looked away as they exchanged greetings, the air heavy with distaste. Madre lead us as we went inside. I continued to stare at the floor as I made my way up the stairs to my room. I knew that that was the only interaction I was going to get with Nana for today. I heard the basement door locks coming undone as I settled myself back on the windowsill.

The screaming that filled the house shortly after wasn't the usual kind of disillusioned screams. These were filled with delight and happiness, a sound that only existed in the house during Nana’s visiting hours. I continued to stare out at the bleak desert and hate the underworld at large.


	2. Exercise

“Again.”

I grunted at the effort to push myself up. The exercises for today were grueling. There was little time to get my bearings as the next onslaught started. I clawed, dodged, and smashed almost blindly, bones aching from the stress. The skeletons surrounding me were fast, new to the battle and not holding back. I wasn’t fast enough to dodge all of the blows. They came, one after another, and before I knew it, I was back on the floor. The skeletons backed off for the moment, waiting for Nana to give the next order.

I heard a sigh and the quiet footsteps of her coming nearer. I relished the quick break she afford me and stayed on the ground. My bones screamed at me to not move, and I listened.

“Django,” I could feel the disappointment dripping from her words, “how are you ever going to rule the living world if you can’t even take down 30 banditos?” I squeezed my eyes shut and kept quiet. She sighed again and walked back to her seat at the top of the arena. “Again.” The attacks started once more with little warning. I forced myself from the ground.

I knew what she expected of me. I learned the day I was chosen to inherit the next Mystic Guitar. I was to train in every way until I was ready. That meant harsh physical demands, impossible mental conditioning, and impeccably sharpening all of my senses. The days that I trained with Nana were some of the worst of my young undead life, but they were also the best.

These were the days where I could be myself. I didn’t have to be quiet and respectful. I didn’t have to conform to the strict standards imposed at every chance in my life. I didn’t need to be nonexistent.

I just needed to be perfect. Which, of course, I already  _ was _ , but more so.

~

“What do you suppose he is planning, Django?” Nana circles me like a shark would a helpless fish. I squinted at the images before me. There was a fight, the villain with a bag of money over his shoulder and the good guy giving a heroic speech. This hero was fast, relying on his speed to build up strength. He was predictable, following a set pattern. I wondered how the other villains didn’t notice it.

“He’s going to disable his opponent in one move with a flying kick,” I’d seen it happen over and over, this was nothing different. I watched as the scene played out, Nana standing behind me. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch as the hero did exactly what I said. A frown quickly overtook the smirk as a new player entered the scene, someone who I had never seen before.

“And what do you think will happen now?” She paused the video, giving me time to respond.

There were only two ways it could go. The new character could be bad, and the hero would have to take him out as well, probably in the same fashion. But this new character looked smaller, childlike to the others. Maybe he was a good guy, and was coming to help the hero?

“It’s a child,” I said. “Maybe he’s going to get an autograph.” It was a safe assumption.

“Maybe?” My finger twitched.  _ Damn _ . She always catches my slip-ups. She didn’t give me time to correct myself, though, as she pressed play on the video. I watched at this new person lept across the screen, coming to stand beside the downed villain. He kicked the unconscious person as the hero walked up from behind. Words were exchanged between the two, and you see them exit the scene together.

“Now, what just happened?” Nana walked around me, facing my directly. She didn’t want me to mess up. I bite my lip.

“Um,” I looked back at the screen behind her. What had happened? Was it a lost child? Was it a wannabe hero or villain? Was it a family friend?

“Django.” Her voice was piercing. I flinched and looked down. Time’s up. “If you cannot read a situation in battle, you will never rule the living world.”

It was a fact.

~

I hissed as the blade hit my bone.

“Dodge it, Django.” Easier said than done.

The world was dark. I couldn’t see anything save the inky blackness of the blindfold around my eyes. I took a hesitant step forward and hiss again when a blade collided with my arm. The swinging traps were laid haphazardly around the training room, and I was starting to feel disoriented. The amount of times I was hit shows through the small cut marks adorning my frame.The end of the maze would be around here somewhere….

Wait, how many steps had I taken again?

I sighed.

Curses.

“So you will just stand there and let your enemies defeat you then, Django.”

I grinded my teeth together. Unlike Nana, I was not just going to  _ stand there _ and  _ let _ them get an advantage over me in the first place! I had half a mind to voice my thoughts.

I refrained.

~

I closed my eyes. The strings on my fingers felt like water after a hard day's work, and I relished the feeling. The soft tune coming from the instrument in my hands was hypnotic and I hummed along to the melody I was making. If Nana’s visiting days were the best in my undead life, then these days were like dying and going to the Land of the Remembered.

It was part of my training to learn how to use my mystic guitar, and I spent the time leisurely. Usually, Nana would have me do small exercising in controlling the specific powers that came with the guitar, but sometimes she would leave me to play on my own. In the moments I was alone, I was gone.

No more was I Django of the Dead, but someone else. Someone who didn’t have a Mystic Guitar, but just a regular one. I imagined myself playing for other people, the harmonies of their music and mine mixing together to create a song only we could play. I imagined the people waiting in the shadows, listening to me strum the guitar and wanting to join me.

I heard Nana make her way down the hall, her shoes clicking on the floor. I sighed.

It was a nice fantasy.

~

I stopped feeling the pain after the 50th blow. The skeletons danced around me as I tore them down, one by one. My claws became expert weapons as I ripped clothes apart and cracked bones. Nana seemed to be adding more and more banditos as I took them down.

~

“He’s going to use the light pole as a bat.” I smirked as the real time video showed just that, El Tigre delivering the final blow to his enemy. He wasn’t predictable like the rest, but that’s what made it fun. I had to pay attention to the surroundings at all times, constantly judging whether or not something was useful to him.

He seemed to find a lot of things useful.

~

The swinging spikes were easy, and I yawned as I maneuvered around them. The shooting blades were a nice touch at the end, but they make too much noise slicing through the air. I cackled as I reached the finish line, the rough ingrain of the floor a tell-tale sign.

“Do it again. Backwards.” I missed Nana’s glare, but I could feel the snark.

“I could do this all day, Nana,” I taunted, and jumped back over the flying blades.

~

“Yo debo aprenderlo es un largo camino para saber que se siente sus opiniones olvido….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was fun. Note, the lyrics come from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lt9QJb4DdB0&nohtml5=False  
> The lyrics I wanted were, “I got to learn things, learn them the hard way/ Gotta see what it feels like, no matter what they say”. I did not make the translation, so I don’t really know what it actually reads? I figured that google translate wasn’t the best option to go with on this soooo tell me if it’s weird so I don’t look like an idiot please.  
> Have a nice day (or night, whichever).


	3. Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got finished with chapter 7, so I figured I'd post some more. 
> 
> (Also, thanks for the comment Al7249. Comments always give me more motivation. :1)
> 
> It's short, but I like this chapter. I'll post the next one soon.

It was quiet, but the air was heavy with expectation. I sat at my desk, skull in hand, focusing solely on the small TV in front of me. The video played in low quality, the static tracing up and down the screen. I sneered at the VHS in the tape player, cursing the fuzzy image. I couldn’t see half the fight!

I paused the video, scribbling more notes down on the papers scattered in front of me. Whatever the difficulties, I had to make this perfect. I was going to prove myself worthy of my Mystic Guitar, and more than worthy to have my family’s name. Nana thought that I couldn’t do it. But I could. I  _ would _ .

I wasn’t a child anymore.

My thirteenth deathday was fast approaching, and with it the day I get my Mystic Guitar. I had been using it for years, but without the effects of my soul being binded to it. With the ceremony of my deathday, there would be enough magica-

Well, technicalities. It wasn’t really important  _ how _ , just that in the moment I get the guitar, I would be finally able to prove myself.

And this plan was imperative to that. If Nana thought I couldn’t handle the responsibility of my Mystic Guitar, then I would give her this. It would show just what I’d learned from her in all these years. My strength, cunning, and intuitive knowledge of my enemies.

Or it would, once it was finished. 

I ground the heels of my palms into my eye sockets and leaned back in my chair. This was frustrating. Of all the heros I studied, there was never any unpredictability. They followed a strict pattern, conscious of it or not. They would give their battle cry, usually their hero name, and tell the villain what they were doing wrong,  _ as if that would do something _ . Then a fight would start, and the hero would either win, or get eaten. There was little variation between the heros’ fighting style, but I found them all. The small nuances between them made the difference in whether they would grab a car to crush the villain, or grab the light pole to smack them away.

It was easy for me to figure out the pattern, and with Nana’s physical training, even easier to dodge the attacks. Not that I’ve ever gone up against a hero before.

But even with all the established patterns, I was still having trouble. There was a wrench in the plans I’ve been trying to make. For months I’ve been pouring over the video’s Nana gave me of the local heros, and every time I thought I had come up with a concrete plan, I would see something that negated everything I’d done. And it usually came in the form of a pint-sized  _ child  _ named El Tigre. I grinded my teeth together.

“Do not grind your teeth, Django.” I glanced over to see Madre pass by my room, not looking in. I forced my eyes not to glare in her direction.

“Yes, Madre,” I grumbled. I sat straighter in my chair, knowing she would say something if I didn’t.

I stared at the TV screen. The video was still paused, showing a grinning El Tigre about to get the upper hand in battle. I sighed. Why couldn’t he just be like the rest? Why couldn’t he be predictable? Why did he have to go and fight villains, then turn around and break all the same laws? It was as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be a hero or a villain.

My eyes widened. Of course! He didn’t follow the pattern of a hero, because he wasn’t one. El Tigre didn’t follow any laws, because he felt they didn’t apply to him. He wasn’t like the other villains, sure, with all the superhero fighting and general do-gooding, but when it came to forwarding his own goals, he was a bad guy to the core.

El Tigre wasn’t someone I had to try to defeat, he was someone I had to try to befriend.

He was the wrench in all my plans, but he was also the key. If I could somehow win him over, not only could I get him out of the equation, but I could use his powers to my advantage. I could not only crush all of Nana’s enemies, but also her competition. Not only could Miracle City be within her grasp, but the whole living world.

I grinned sharply. This was the exact plan I was looking for. Something to prove myself with, something that would give me the power to rise above the expectations Nana set on me. She would see exactly what I was capable of.

Now, how do I win over El Tigre?


	4. Celebrating

Thirteen years ago today I was brought into the world. A dead, barren world filled with nothing but forgotten sorrow. I was a child of the Land of the Forgotten, born of a living woman and the grandson of La Muerte and Xibalba. I was born with no skin, no muscles, no organs. I was a skeleton, a dead thing, yet still living, just as my father before me. But unlike my father, I was granted the power to own a Mystic Guitar. I had enough immortality inside of me to not perish when my essence was bonded to the magical instrument. I was to be like my Nana, living forever with the power to control the dead.

It was an honor. But with it, came the knowledge that I would have to earn it. Just because I _could_ handle the power, didn’t mean I deserved it. Madre knew from the beginning that the power would be too much for me, that I would turn out like my father, but she was wrong.

I shivered.

She was wrong. Nana knew she was, said she was to her face. I trusted Nana. She trained me from the ground up, and Madre couldn’t do anything about it. I learned what it meant to be a bearer of a Mystic Guitar and how to hone my skills to defeat my enemies. I learned how to crush those that opposed me and rise above the rest. The years stretched on, but today, they felt like forever ago.

I surpassed all of the expectations put on me. I beat every challenge Nana gave me, and I proved Madre wrong. After I get my Mystic Guitar permanently, she will no longer be able to look at me like she did. I did what was expected, and excelled. She has nothing to be disappointed with.

I balled my hands into fists at my side. After today, I won’t be treated like the child I wasn’t. After today, I was finally going to live up to the family name. After today, I’ll be able to finally enact my plan and defeat the living world with Nana.

I was going to going to make Madre proud.

~

It hurt. No, scratch that, _everything_ hurt. My entire body was protesting against an invisible assault. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my fists tighter, and grinded my teeth against it. It would be over soon. I just had to get through it. When the pain subsides, I’ll be bonded to my Mystic Guitar. I ju _st had to get through it. Just get through it…._

~

The guitar was no different in my hands. The wood was still tarnished black, the strings still tuned. The neck was no longer or shorter than it had been, and the sounds it played were no different. Yet, even as I fiddled with the shoulder strap, it _was_ different.

I could feel its presence. The space that it took up wasn’t just an arbitrary shape in the midsts of other things, but a continuous thing. It was like a pulse, constantly reminding me of its being. I held the guitar close, feeling it respond.

It was no different than a few pieces of wood and metal fit together, but it commanded to be so. I felt the power it exuded from just simply existing in this world. It was a marvel the thing didn’t just grow legs and do what it wanted.

I held it in silent awe. This guitar was nothing more than an instrument to me a day ago, yet now, it was my entire person. If something happened to this guitar, I would be gone. Lost in the darkness and unable to find my way back.

I knew that the next step in my training was to find the hidden roads throughout this world. I needed to find every crack in the spaces between the different Lands. Nana had been doing it for millennia, so I could too.

I snuffed out the twinge of fear. Nothing would happen to me. I passed all of  Nana’s tests, I proved Madre wrong, and I got through the binding ceremony. There was nothing this world could throw at me that I couldn’t handle. This, I was sure of.

~

The living world was a lot different than what I imagined.

There were things _everywhere_ . Constant flashing lights, living people and animals running around, the sun even _moved._ It was addicting to watch the menial tasks of the living people below me. I tried to see everything I could from my point on the balcony. It was hard not to jump down into the ruckus of the city and take in all of the sights. It was even harder not to look awed as Nana watched me.

“How do you like it, Django?” She was calculating with her words, not giving any of her thoughts away. I looked away from the city.

“Eh.” I shrugged, walking back into her lair. She followed me with a low cackle, not at all convinced. But that was okay. I was going to be in this realm for a long time, so what did it matter if I spent a few days looking at everything? Of course, there was no time for that right now. Now, we had to plan.

Nana was quick to let me secretly study her competitors in person. We formed a routine within the week, her inviting the person of interest over for some arbitrary reason, and then picking a fight with them, while I studied every second of it. It was odd seeing Nana fight. It wasn’t as though I never had before, but this was against people I had only met on a TV screen.

They were all pretty lackluster. I had thought that the VHS tapes would have taken some liberties with all of the people, but even in real-life quality they were nothing different. Each villain did exactly as I had been predicting for years. The patterns held up for every encounter Nana had.

All except one.

El Tigre was nothing short of spectacular. He was cocky and loud, but also willing to take a step down and listen to advice from those around him. He worked well with others, and he worked well on his own. It was as if he was going to win every time, just because he wanted to. I made page after page of notes, each documenting his strengths, weaknesses, abilities, and anything I thought was important. Which, as it turns out, was a lot of things.

Which way he tended to flex his back when dodging something. The curve of his claws when he went to scratch his foes. The way his tail waved when he tried to get balance. The pitch in his voice when he was about to deliver a stinging remark. The glint in his eyes when he knew he would win.

I had to hide a lot of notes from Nana. Some things weren’t actually that important.

But even if his fighting style was easy to plot, his resourcefulness was still aggravating. I caught myself wanting to yell at him more than once. Why would he punch an enemy when kicking it could have been easier? Why did he look away from Nana when he knew she was going to swing at him? Why did he let his friend get captured so many times?

It was daunting. Even after all these years studying him, he was still as unpredictable as the first time I saw him. I knew that, in order for the plan to work, I had to befriend him. I had to convince him of my innocence, and make him believe in what I had to say.

If I could pull this off, if I could find the key to El Tigre’s friendship, then there would be nothing that could stop me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too good a chapter for such a long wait. Never fear, though, the next one is better. ;D  
> Also, this marks the end of the introduction. Next up: Part 1. I'm working on Chapter 8 right now (chapter 7 is kinda long), so maybe once I get that done I'll post chapter 5 in it's entirety (it's long too). Maybe. :)  
> And thank you thank you thank you to those who commented so far! All your thoughts are greatly appreciated and critiques being considered. Thank you!


	5. The Good, The Bad, and The Tigre (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If you wanna start a fight, you better throw the first punch, make it a good one.  
> And if you wanna make it through the night, you better say my name like,”  
> The Good, The Bad, and The Tigre.
> 
> Chapter 5 is in two parts, this is part one. :)

My entrance was exactly what I wanted. Loud, confident, and with the right amount of new age flair to get the younger crowd paying attention. I was to play my part in front of all these people. I had never been around so many at one time, and to be the center of attention was nerve-wrecking, but I was confident in my abilities.

“You? Take over  _ my _ empire?” Nana was harsh and degrading, acting perfectly in her role. I felt a small part of me shrink down. I knew she didn’t mean it, and I used my doubts to fuel my acting. The front row seat to all of the shocked faces was entertaining, and I clenched my fists to keep from smiling.

Look sad. Look defeated. Look scorned.

When the crowds started to file out, I lifted my head. I was almost sad to think that of these villains, and White Pantera, none of them would live to see the end of the week. I cast my eyes across the sea of moving bodies.

El Tigre stared back at me.

~

“I do not know about this, Django,” Nana looked over the list again. “Why must we save the Rivera’s for last?” I rolled my eyes, making sure to face away from her. We had been through this a hundred times already.

“Because, Nana, we need to get El Tigre on our side.” I forced my voice to be flat. I knew she didn’t want to hear any ‘sass’ on the day of her big show.

“And you are sure El Tigre will turn on his familia?”

“I’m  _ sure _ , Nana. He can’t say no.” Probably.

But if he did, and that was a big if, I would just end him like the rest. And if by some way he was still able to defeat me and Nana, then the lava would take care of everything. It was foolproof. 

I turned away from Nana, blocking out her muttering, and went back to strumming my guitar. It was nice to finally relax, not having to be constantly checking, re-calculating, and observing the tiniest nuances of the competition. The game had already started, everything was set in motion, and all I had to do was get El Tigre to trust me.

What would he be like up close?

I knew what he was like when he was fighting. I knew every detail of his strengths and weaknesses. I knew how he spoke, I knew what he considered important in critical moments, I knew what he would do. But what would he like as an ally? 

What would he laugh at, or banter with? What would he do in his spare time, when he wasn’t fighting? Where would he go first in the world to conquer?

I found myself humming a small tune as I thought. I figured I’d find out tonight.

~

I waited on a small overhang for the perfect moment to strike. El Tigre and his friend were talking, hiding behind some rocks. I considered just walking up to them, but that was too easy. I needed something big, something showy. An introduction that would set things off in the right direction.

“Come back when you’re older.” Perfect. I stood up to my full height on the overhang, waiting for the line I was sure was going to come. “Sartana’s guitar is no child’s toy.” Show time.

“And neither is mine.” I shot off a few bursts of guitar fire, aiming for a nonlethal spot. My mid-air flips seemed to impress, and I landed next to El Tigre and friend. He grabbed a couple of well-place banditos and I fired a few more rounds. Nana wouldn’t mind if she lost a few guys.

“You’re pretty good, kid,” I said, hammering in the insult I was sure he was very familiar with.

“You too, child,” was the response. I grinned. It seemed that I was right about the insult.

The hand that grabbed my chest was a surprise, but I relaxed my expression by the time we reached the top of the volcano. I faced El Tigre and his friend, stance confident.

“That was awesome!” I smirked a little wider. He held out his hand. “I’m, eh, sorry,” He retracted his claws. I didn’t know he could do that. “El Tigre.”

“I know,” I shook his hand. It was a weird feeling to finally come into physical contact with him after so long. “Your name gets around. I’m Django. Guess we’ll be up against each other in the tournament.” I fought to keep my excitement in check. My plan was finally happening, and here was the grand prize.

“Dude, you already got a swe _ eeet _ Mystic Guitar, why do wanna win Sartana’s?” The friend said, coming out from behind El Tigre’s back. I knew this question would pop up sooner or later.

“I’m sick of Nana Sartana treating me like a child! I’m gonna show her she’s wrong.” I clenched my fists. That sounded a little too rehearsed. I dropped my shoulders a fraction in relief when they didn’t notice. The friend was… interesting in her planning, but El Tigre quickly quieted her.

“I totally know what you mean! We’ll show all of them that they’re wrong about us.” My grin widened. 

“If I don’t win I hope you do. All those old dudes are the past, Tigre, you and me are the future.” I took a calculated step to the side, knowing that there was a small spot to land on inside. “Come on.” 

I jumped.

~

“Begin!” The start of the tournament was going smoothly. I positioned myself next to El Tigre’s party, and waited. The first match was designed to get rid of all the biggest villains at once, and what better way to do that but with a little trust building with El Tigre? The onslaught started immediately, and El Tigre did not disappoint.

I chuckled when he cut El Mal Verde’s belt. It was no surprise people still considered him a child when he did things like that on a daily basis. After the successful attacks of all the giant monsters, I saw my opportunity.

“Tigre, Mal Verde has a cavity in his front tooth!” I called. He acted, and within seconds won the first challenge. I smirked. Of course, he would have won even if he didn’t defeat the other monsters, Nana would have made sure of that.

I leaned against the stands, watching El Tigre and his family talk. He looked over at me, and I gave a thumbs up. He replied in kind.

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” I heard him say to his father.

“Of course there is something to worry about: the next event!” I smirked and took that as my cue to join the little circle.


	6. The Good, The Bad, and The Tigre (2)

“They have a roster going around, you know,” White Pantera looked at me, not noticing my approach.

“Really? Where?” He looked around and ran before I could point him in the right direction. He could probably figure it out.

“Hey, thanks for saving my butt back there, heh,” El Tigre pointed back at the arena, already being prepared for the next event. He smiled.

“Yeah,” I shrugged, not really knowing what to say. I looked at the ground, kicking my feet.

“So, Django, you are villain, yes?” What was it, Puma Loco? He looked at me from inside his suit, eye narrowed with doubt. I didn’t hesitate.

“Of course. You know, I heard they’re having a sale on Villain’s Quarterly near the entrance.” All it took was a gesture of my hand for him to be running in that direction. And with that, El Tigre and I were alone.

“Hey, so, when are you going up? Do you know who you're fighting? If you lose, can I have your guitar?” The rapid-fired questions came from beside me and I jolted, looking at the source.

“Uhh,” I really should have considered her more when planning. But it probably didn’t matter. As far as I knew, she was just as bad an influence on Tigre as I was going to be.

“Frida.” I heard from my other side. Right, that was her name.

“What?” She shrugged innocently. I laughed at her ego. It was almost a shame she wouldn’t make it out of here alive. “See, Django thought it was funny.”

“I think the next event is about to start.” We leaned against the railing, watching as Nana called out the next competition and the names of the people selected. It was all pre-planned, but I still found myself waiting in anticipation with El Tigre and Frida.

The tournament went on, competition after competition. At one point we made a run to the souvenirs and got a foam finger. I laughed more than I had in years when Tigre pretend-shoved the finger up his nose and it got stuck.

My competitions were flawless, and as such I got praise from Frida and Tigre. I cheered wholeheartedly when Tigre battled against the others, and belted along with the others during rough matches. When it was getting close to the wire, I took another step in my plan.

“Tigre, can I talk to you for a second?” I said, pointing over to a secluded spot.

“Yeah, sure,” He followed me without hesitation. This was going better than I thought it would.

“So, uh, Tigre,” I turned to face him once we were away from the others. We were out of earshot and eyesight, in a perfect place for me to give my speech of gratitude and encouragement. He smiled back at me.

I paused. What was it I was going to say again?

I tried to remember my speech, words failing me all of a sudden. I stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow at me and I felt my face grow hot. I quickly looked at the wall, knowing that I wasn't actually blushing, but still embarrassed nonetheless. I cleared my throat and tried to started again.

“What I was going to say was-” My eyes went back to him and I knew I made a mistake. The words caught in my throat as I stared at his confused expression. I felt my jaw go a little loose with the unspoken sentences I wanted to say, but I couldn't help it.

Why? Why couldn't I just give my speech? Why couldn't I just deliver my lines like how I'd done in the mirror so many times before this? Why couldn't I just convince him to be on my side in the end? Why couldn't I tear my eyes away from his for just a few minutes? Why did he have to look so… 

His eyes were wide, his mouth set in a friendly smile. He looked like nothing I'd ever seen before, something innocent, honest….

Open.

“Django?” His eyebrows knitted together and I realized too late that I could see more flecks in his green eyes than what was normal. Our faces met and I fell into him, keeping my feet in the stone-like position they were in but leaning all of my weight onto him where we touched. His eyes widened and for a split second I wondered what I was doing, but then his eyes were glazing over and lids dropping down and I felt his weight push against my skull.

It was nothing short of a miracle the way his mouth fit against my face, and I wondered not for the first time how it was that I had something akin to lips when I had no skin. Thoughts went to the back of my brain as I shut my eyelids, allowing my head to tilt just slightly to relieve the pressure of our noses pressed together.

He had just opened his mouth a little more when I heard Frida calling his name. Tigre jerked his head away from me, almost falling over in the process, and we had a second to stare at each other before Frida was calling out again. He turned the corner from our hiding space and all but ran to the sound. I shut my eyes tightly, clenching my fists. Well, I supposed that it wasn't all bad. It wasn't exactly as planned, but improvisations weren't always  _ bad _ . The point of the speech was to get Tigre more willing to be on my side, and what better way to say ‘Let's stick together’ than some spit exchange under the proverbial bleachers? 

I walked back to the group, all family members present. I stood between El Tigre and Frida, and while she seemed none the wiser, El Tigre refused to make eye contact with me.

~  


I was furious.

How dare he. How  _ dare _ he make me look like a fool in front of everyone. Not only did he get me to humiliate myself, but he also made me destroy my own guitar. I prayed that the explosion knocked him into the lava. It would be nice to see his dead face in the underworld. At least then I could get revenge.

“Do not look so resentful, Django. It was not his fault your plan didn’t work.” I grinded my teeth to keep from yelling at Nana. She didn’t deserve it, after all. She played her part, and she did it well. It was my mistakes that ruined everything.

I lurched forward as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. I got out first, holding the door for Nana. She stepped out and started for the front door. I closed the carriage door and stepped up to my house.

“Mujer.”

“Sartana.”

I stared at the ground.

“Django. What are you doing back so early?” I felt Madre’s gaze on me. I did my best look small. Her voice was cold and sharp, and I could feel both her and Nanas eyes on me.

“Th- my plan… I-” I choked, hunching into myself more. I hoped that Madre wouldn’t ask me to explain any more, but as the implications of what I hadn’t said sank in, I saw her eyes catching on fire in cold anger. Nana turned away from me and sidestepped her into the house. I wished that I could follow.

“Django.” Madre spit the word at me. I refused to meet her gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well ain’t this just lovely. The ending’s a little weak, but I think I got the point across. Haven’t even started chapter nine yet, and I still need to edit chapter eight, so next update is going to be whenever I feel like it. Fun times ahead.
> 
> Have a wonderful day!


	7. Looting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, unlike chapter nine. That one is almost double the length of an average chapter for me, so I may split it up, idk. Next up, a little filler chapter. Still need to edit a lot of things, and write chapter ten, so next update is scheduled for whenever I get to it. (Probs during Christmas, or around that week. Finals and all.)
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate. :)

I stared out the window to the city below. It was busy, the darkening sky doing nothing to hinder the local economy. People scurried across the streets, into shops and homes. I watched as the thieves and bandits came out from their hiding places, looking for an easy target. I itched to join them, but I didn’t move from my perch on the window sill.

The past few months were humiliating for me. After the tongue lashing I got from Madre, she banned me from going back to the underworld until I had redeemed myself. Nana was kind enough to let me stay with her in the living world, but as time passed, I found myself longing for the quiet solitude of my house. It was too loud here, to bright. There were too many people.

Whenever I did leave the safety of Nana’s house, nothing good came of it. I was constantly stared at by locals, taunted by those who had been witness to my failed plan all those weeks ago, and I went to jail more times then I’d like to count. It seemed as though El Tigre had a vendetta against me, always being there whenever I tried to do something remotely bad. It wasn’t like I was masterminding anything big, it was just a few small robberies!

But even with all the times I met him, he never said more than a few words to me. I knew that he was a taunting type of person, but after winning every fight, he would just leave. I never saw him after I was put in handcuffs and carried away. Nana always broke me out the next day, but it was still humiliating having to sit in a jail cell with the lowest rung of bad guys.

She always had something to say to me when we got back to her house, either a full length speech on the importance of not getting caught or just a quick comment about my incompetence. It stung when she pointed out all of the flaws, but it was the truth. I always thanked her for trying to help me get better. She’s been doing this for a lot longer than I have, she knows what she’s talking about. Even still, I stopped going out when Frida started helping in the fights. I was not going to be beaten by her and sink to a new low.

Nana noticed after the third week of my isolation. She didn’t tell me to leave, but I could tell she wasn’t happy with me.

“After all of those years of teaching you, Django, and you don’t ever want to leave the house?”

I didn’t reply.

It wasn’t her fault that I didn’t want to get out. If anyone, it was my own. I couldn’t win a single fight against El Tigre, I couldn’t rob a single bank successfully, I couldn’t execute a single plan to the end without something blowing up in my face, sometimes literally. I couldn’t leave the house when I didn’t even trust myself.

And what was the point of training? I had already perfected all of my abilities in the last few years. I had already come up with the most diabolical plan to get rid of all of Nana’s competition. I used every last thing I had learned to put that plan into action, and still it failed. If my very best wasn’t good enough, then what was I worth on any given day?

A car alarm went off in the street below me. I sighed and pulled my knees in closer to my chest. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be a supervillain, it was that I couldn’t.

I felt a tremble go through the wooden frame of the window sill. I looked at my bedroom door. Was Nana fighting someone again? It was too quiet for there to be a brawl, though.

I got up and walked out into hallway, being careful not to make any noise. I peeked around the corner that lead to the main room of the house. Standing there was none other than Frida and El Tigre, who was proudly boasting about his skills of breaking and entering quietly.

He wasn’t very quiet about it.

I watched as Frida shushed him and handed him several empty sacks. I wondered if I should do something, but….

I looked on as they scooped up the gold that lay on the floor, giggling at their supposed genius. I moved back into the safety of the hallway and sighed. Nana could deal with this better than I could.

I walked back down the hall, not bothering being quiet, and passed by my bedroom. Nana’s room was at the very end, and I had to knock a few times to get her to open the door.

“This better be important,” she growled, still not fully awake.

“El Tigre just stole some of your loot, Nana.” I walked away before she could slam the door in my face, and hurried down the hall. She was furious, and it was best if I made myself scarce.

I spent the rest of the evening alone, waiting for Nana to get back with her stolen money. It was two days later before she came back, face set in a frown and empty handed.

“You need to get out more, Django,” was the only thing she said to me before going back into her room.


	8. Ice Cream... (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! *pops confetti cannon*
> 
> So, yeah, this chapter is a month late. But! It's one of my favorite chapters so far and is a two-parter, so there. Enjoy the super long chapter and I'll see you next time!

I walked down the street, hands in my pockets. I kicked the rocks in front of me, watching them bounce across the sidewalk. I didn’t bother to look where I was going, I didn’t care. There wasn’t anyone around, all the living people gravitating to the other side of the road. It didn’t matter.

I sighed. Nana had kicked me out for the day, claiming that she was ‘having company’. If that was the case, why couldn’t I just stay in my room? I would have preferred a few hours of solitude rather than disgruntled living people staring at me constantly.

“Django!” My teeth grinded together. Of course El Tigre would show up. I stopped walking and turned toward the sound, not bothering to hide my anger.

“ _What_?” I growled, knowing that he could hear me. I saw him stop a few feet away from me, Frida standing beside him. He looked confused.

“Uh.” He held a claw up, looking as though he had something to say. I raised an eyebrow. “Well, um….” He scratched the back of his head. Frida started to whisper something to him, and I rolled my eyes. What was he playing at? I wasn’t doing anything wrong! I turned away from them and started walking away. They were just going to annoy me, and Great-Grandmother only knew how much of that I need right now.

“Wait!” El Tigre slid in front of me, blocking my path. I gave him as hateful a glare as I possibly could. Why today, of all days? Why did it have to be him?

“Ugh, what _do you want_ , El Tigre?” I balled my hands into fists beside me. If it was a fight he wanted….

“You see, we were just wondering, _Frida, a little help_?” He mock-whispered the last part, gesturing to me.

“Well, it’s like this. We had this great idea for, um,”

“A birthday party!”

“Right. And we were wondering if maybe,”

“You would help us pick out a gift,”

“Because…”

“It’s for Sartana!”

“Yeah! And we figured, since you knew her so well,”

“You would be able to help us!” My eyes went between the two of them as they spoke, wild hand gestures doing nothing to convince me. After a few seconds of staring, I crossed my arms.

“So, let me get this straight,” Why did the world do this to me? “You want to throw a birthday party for Nana Sartana, and you need my help, to pick out a gift?” I said it slowly, not believing the words coming out of my mouth. They both nodded enthusiastically. “Do you even know when her birthday is?”

“The 18th.” “The 9th.” They looked at each other. Frida shrugged. “Somewhere in there.”

“Nana doesn’t even _have_ a birthday!” I yelled, itching to pull out my guitar. I was tired of them. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? Why did El Tigre always have to show up and ruin everything?

“Django!” Frida mock-gasped. El Tigre tsked and shook his head. “You don’t even know your own _Grandmother’s_ birthday? How can you call yourself an ‘of the Dead’? Do you even know how _old_ she is?” I paused. Nana didn’t have a birthday, I was sure of it. She didn’t like the tradition of celebrating when someone was given life. But she had been in the living world for a long time….

“Yeah. We used to celebrate it all the time when she was dating Grandpapi,” El Tigre gave me a look of self-satisfaction. I furrowed my eyebrows. I never heard her talk about birthdays or Puma Loco, but what if she didn’t want me to know?

What if she _had_ picked up the tradition?

“You see? Now, come help us pick out a present. You can even get one too!” Frida smiled at me as she grabbed my arm. El Tigre lead the way down the street.

~

“Now, first things first. What type of cake should we get?” El Tigre stood at the end of the street, back in his non-hero form, tapping his chin. Frida stood beside him, silently contemplating. I stared at the ground, wishing for this to be as painless as possible.

“Vanilla? Naw, too boring.”

“Chocolate? Eh, too unoriginal.”

“I know: Ice cream cake!” El Tigre snapped his fingers.

“Yeah, she'd totally like that, wouldn’t she?” They stared at me, waiting for a response. I shrugged.

“I don't know.” It's not like we ate very often, how was I supposed to know her food choices?

“Well, it's not like you've never had it before, so I'm sure it'll be fine.” Frida waved off any concerns. I stared at her.

“We haven’t.”

“Haven't what? Had ice cream cake? Psh, yeah right.” They laughed together, ignoring me altogether in favor of exchanging remarks about ‘losers’ and ‘neglected children’. I bristled.

“Uh, no, we haven't. It's not like we have to eat or anything, why would we have something like ice cream _or_ cake?” I crossed my arms and faced away from them, ignoring the shocked silence.

“You've _never_ had ice cream?” El Tigre looked like his jaw was about to fall off. I kind of wished it would.

“You poor, poor soul.” I maneuvered myself away from Frida as she tried to lay a hand on my shoulder. “You know what this means, don't you?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You totally have to try it! Come on!”

El Tigre ran into one of the shops, Frida whooping in delight behind him. She held the door for me, silently willing me to join them. I sighed.

I entered the small shop, the little bell on the door chiming as the door closed. Some of the customers who were sitting around looked up at me, and before I even made it to the front desk, I was the center of attention. El Tigre and Frida didn't notice the hush that had gone throughout the small room.

I knew that it was odd to see a skeleton walking around, but was it really that weird that people had to stare? Nana had a whole army of banditos that the living saw on an almost daily basis, why was seeing me such an astonishing thing? It wasn't like I _was_ one of her banditos, I was too short, for one thing.

“We need to start him off simple, go for the classics. Maybe a vanilla two-scoop strawberry swirl with those chocolate shavings on top?” I watched as El Tigre and Frida drooled over the glass showing the ice cream tubs.

“Naw, go for the mint candy cane triple caramel extreme.” Their exchange went on for several more minutes, saying things that I was convinced weren’t real words. I crossed my arms. I didn't want to be here any longer than I had to. This place was uncomfortable.

“Just get me that,” I pointed to one of the normal looking tubs, and nearly groaned when they started discussing whether or not to get me a cone or bowl. El Tigre quickly placed the order when he saw the death glare I gave him. We left several minutes later, all with ice cream in hand.


	9. ...and Puppies (2)

I looked down at the sugary mess in my hands. Was this really necessary? I eyed the two walking next to me, both ravishingly enjoying their own weird, frozen ‘treats’. This… was this normal for them? I grumbled to myself. It’s not like we were anything more than enemies, so why were they treating me like a best friend?

There was something going on here, wasn’t there? I cursed to myself. How much of a fool did I have to be to get suckered into something like this so easily? They weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were up to something!

I sighed. Whatever. El Tigre wasn’t trying to break my guitar, or my face, so I figured I’d let them have their fun. If it _was_ some elaborate evil plot, well, their advantage of surprise was gone.

“Yo, Django of the Deaf, is anyone in there?” I swatted Frida’s hand from my face and gave them a deadpan look. “Dude, are you going to eat your ice cream, or what?” They both stared back at me expectantly, and I noticed that we had stopped walking. I fidgeted under their gazes and glanced at the ice cream in my hand.

It was not what I had pointed to in the shop. It was acidic looking, full of bright colors all swirling together, the sprinkles on top only adding to the multicolored mess. I sent a silent prayer to anyone that might be listening and stuck my tongue out.

It… was good. Not something I’d have everyday, but it wasn’t the rancid taste I was expecting. El Tigre and Frida high five'd at the look on my face, and I quickly maneuvered it back to a neutral expression.

“Hey, so you know what would go really good with ice cream?” Frida said, as she gave a big smile that I was sure was fake.

~

The expression on my face was probably somewhere in between horror, disgust, and a weird fascination. I stood at the corner of a street, ice cream clenched in one hand, watching as Frida rolled across the ground with a group of small, yappy dogs following her. Tigre stood beside me, laughing and pointing at his friend. As much as I tired, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight, wondering for probably the hundredth time in less than ten minutes how exactly I got into this situation. I felt a nudge on my arm as Tigre elbowed me, and I looked at his smiling face.

“Come on Django, hurry up so we can join,” he gestured to where Frida was still on ground. I snapped my jaw closed ( _why was it open_ ) and squinted my eyes a fraction. I knew that he wanted me to finish my ice cream so we could go into the small dog park, but did he seriously think I _wanted_ to roll around in the dirt like a filthy animal? With _dogs_ , no less?

He smiled a little wider. I let out a huff of air and started towards the nearest trashcan.

“Wait, where are you going?” I didn't miss the slight note of panic in his voice, and I rolled my eyes.

“I'm just throwing this away, don't get your belt in a twist.” His hand reached mine before I could dump the cold treat into the garbage, and I looked at him accusingly. I was met with an appalled expression.

“What do you think you're doing? You can't throw away ice cream!” I rolled my eyes hard enough to hurt this time and pushed my hand more fully into his.

“Then you take it, I'm through.” Through with a lot of things at that moment, namely El Tigre and his best friend. He gave me another sick expression.

“No, it's yours! It has your mouth germs all over it,” he pushed the ice cream and my hand back towards me and for a moment I was reminded of the tournament all those months ago.

“So, what does that have to do with anything? You've had my mouth germs all over you before.” The comment was out before I could really think about it, and I felt my face go hot. I tried not to show my reaction, but El Tigre’s was instantaneous. He pushed away from me, shock written all over his face, and before I could really enjoy the moment of finally having a leg up on him, I felt the cold stickiness of my ice cream being smothered all over the front of my clothes. I looked down to see the horrid multicolored mess decorating my front, and sighed. Of course this would happen.

Tigre was quick to spout apologies, and with the increased noise, Frida stopped her rolling about and came over to us. I was just about to yell at Tigre that it was all his fault when I felt a tug at my ankle and looked to see the whole horde of small, yappy dogs sniffing at my boots.

~

“I don't _care_ about the ice cream, I don't _care_ about the gifts, I don't _care_ about Nana’s surprise party, I'm not going down there!” I yelled over the ledge of the roof. I crossed my arms tighter around my chest and huffed. The sticky feeling of the mostly dried ice cream did nothing to help my mood.

“But Django, don't you want to make you grandmomma happy?” Frida’s voice barely carried over the sounds of the dogs barking below, and I glared a little darker at the opposite corner of the roof. Of course I wanted to make Nana happy, that's why I agreed to the stupid party shopping in the first place!

“Going to see puppies with one of her archenemies will _not_ make Nana Sartana happy,” and with that final comment I was done. I pulled my hat over my face and tucked myself farther into the corner I was sitting against, fully intending to block out any remaining protests Frida or El Tigre could come up with.

“Well, we have to do something…” Frida’s voice floated up from below. I couldn't hear El Tigre’s response over the sound of the dogs, but I imagined he probably said something dumb. “But how are we going to convince him to join good instead of evil?”

Wait, what.

I sat up again, pulling my hat back in position, and strained my hearing.

“I don't know Frida, maybe he just isn't cut out for the good side.” Not cut out fo- they were trying to get me to do _good_? Suddenly the puppies made sense. I leaned over the roof, watching the two friends argue. They were serious, weren't they?

The dogs scattered when I landed hard on the concrete sidewalk, my boots making small cracks beneath me. El Tigre cut off what he was saying and looked at me, watching my approach. Frida backed away a good distance, probably anticipating the fight that was about to come.

“You were trying to get me to be a _hero_?” I spat the word, and even though my voice was low, it carried the weight of my anger. I couldn't believe I was that naive to even consider a word they said, and yet I went along with everything. El Tigre backed away from me, his hand moving towards his belt in a warning.

“Look, Django, we just wanted to have some fun, okay? We don't want to fight you-”

“Yeah, especially since Manny already promised his dad he wouldn't fight you just for the money.” We both looked at her, Tigre hissing _“Frida!”_.

“What? It's not like he _knows_ that Sartana tried to bribe you into faking a fight and losing, but instead we tried to make him forget his evil ways and go good, right? Oh, wait.” I shook my head at her, unimpressed with her slip, and turned back to El Tigre’s dubiously apologetic expression.

A multitude of feelings came to me at once; confusion as to why Nana would hire El Tigre to fight against me and lose, a twinge of reprehension at Frida for making it seem like I was a naive _idiot_ , but most of all, _anger_. I was angry at myself for going along with any of this stuff. I was angry at Nana for thinking that I couldn't handle a fight with El Tigre. I was angry because she was probably right. And to top it all off, I was angry at El Tigre for trying to take advantage of me and turn me into something I wasn't, like someone would do to a _child._

With a roar, I threw myself at him.

~

“How was your day, Django?” Nana’s voice was sweet with fake consideration. I shouldered past her and the doorway, not giving her a single glance. The door to my room slammed behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, the puppies made sense.
> 
> That's my favorite fucking line that I've written in my entire goddamn life.


	10. Stealing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gooooooooood this took way too long. I really don’t like how this chapter turned out either. The beginning is weird and I had to rewrite the end like, four times. Blah. Whatever.
> 
> Good news tho, average chapter length is getting longer as it goes on! Chapter 13 is up to almost 4k? So, yeah, that’s a thing.
> 
> Be expecting another post here sometime soon

I smirked at the hero in front of me. El Tigre gawked at me from several feet below, seemingly not entirely convinced that it was actually me he was seeing. I placed the jewel back into its spot in the sculpture, not taking my eyes off of him. I’d get it later, after I won the this fight. And man, was I looking forward to a fight.

“Are you just going to stare, or should we get on with it?” I called to him, my voice carrying the anticipation I was feeling. El Tigre shook, snapping out of whatever it was he was thinking. A thought passed through my head of how stupid he looked.

“Uhhh,” I rolled my eyes. Guess this was just not his night. Oh well, better for me. I jumped down the scaffolding that was scattered around the tall sculpture, maneuvering my way between the invisible alarm lasers with practiced ease. The setup was pretty generic for a priceless artifact, and I could plainly see the connectors and receivers dotting the area. Really, it was as if the museum director _wanted_ it to be stolen.

I landed several feet away from El Tigre, who still had yet to shut his mouth. I twisted my neck, cracking the joints in preparation of the fight.

“Well?” I assumed fighting stance and waited for him to react. It wasn’t like I didn’t _want_ the first strike, but victory was always sweeter when it was hard won. He jumped again, shocked into movement, and quickly raised his hands up in a ‘no harm’ gesture.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what? No,” His eyebrows knitted together and the corner of his mouth twisted up. It was a... _confusing_ , expression, “I don’t want to _fight_ you!” I didn’t move. No way was I going to fall for some cheap tactic used to lower my guard. Not _again_.

“Nice try, _Tigre_ , but if you’re not here to fight me, then what are you here _for_?” I all but spat out and smirked as I caught him in his lie.

“Actually, I was going to steal that,” he pointed to the jewel I had not moments ago, the other hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. I flinched back from him, apprehensive. In all these past months of fighting him, I’d forgotten that he did evil too. Well, as evil as stealing a few things here and there was, anyways. I tensed back into my fighting stance, narrowing my eyes further.

“Well, if you want it, then _fight me_.” My words hung in the air for a few seconds as he stared at me.

“Um, no, I didn’t really want it anyway,” he finally said, minutely shrugging his shoulders. I finally relaxed from my fighting pose and rolled my head. Of course. _Typical_ hero play. First, come here to steal something, then let the guy who got here first have it. How _nice_ of him. I turned back to the sculpture and preceded to start the climb back up. No matter what El Tigre was here to do, he was not going to ruin this for me.

_This_ , being my first heist after a humiliating day full of ice cream and puppies followed by several weeks of solitude. When I finally plucked the rather large jewel back out of the sculpture and jumped back down to the floor, I noticed that El Tigre was still standing there.

“ _What_?” I hissed at him. He didn’t seem to notice the blatant annoyance in my voice. Couldn’t he tell that he wasn’t welcome?

“Duuude, you have _got_ to show me how to do that!” He exclaimed after a few seconds of awkward staring. Show him what? How to properly _steal something_? The confusion must have shown on my face because he started making rapid hand gestures at me. “Those flips, with the lasers! That was so cool!” He drew out his vowels and I felt my face get hot. Was he being serious?

“I’ve been trying to do that for years, and you just made it look so easy! Come on, you’ve _got_ to teach me!” He clasped his hands together in front of me and started shaking them. Was he… begging? What was even happening right now?

“Uhhh…” I felt my voice catch as he looked at me with big eyes. For a moment I was drawn yet again to his expression, reminding me of all those months ago, the first time I’d seen an expression like that. Something innocent and honest. And just like before, I felt myself leaning a little closer to him.

“Sure,” the word was out of my mouth before I had time to process it, and Tigre was dancing excitedly away from me not seconds later. I snapped my back straight again, turning away from him. What did I just agree too?

I took a second to close my eyes. This wasn’t all bad, not like the last time. After all, there were no ulterior motives to this (probably) and it was on my time instead of his. Unfortunately, there was no Frida around to spill all the details if there _was_ something more to this. Oh well, I could just ditch at the first sign of trouble. No big deal.

“What are we gonna do first?” My bones creaked as I jumped, the voice coming from directly behind me.

“Uh, well,” I turned back to Tigre and immediately made the decision to not look him in the eyes. I could not let this end up someplace I was not prepared for.

“What exactly do you want to learn?”

~

“Hey, watch this one.” Tigre pushed his fingers onto his face and stuck his tongue out, forming what looked like a brain-dead zombie with a serious case of constipation. I choked, trying my best to hold in my laughter. I clutched my shit tighter, willing myself to be _quiet_. I heard his soft chuckles next to me as he finally moved back into the small space the cameras couldn’t see. I glared at him when I finally had myself under control.

“Tigre, _stop that_. We’re suppose to be using _stealth_ ,” I whispered angrily. There was still a smile on my face though, and he laughed a little.

“What’s the point of robbing something if you can’t have fun?” He smirked at me, obviously assuming he had the better argument. Well, you know what they say about assuming things.

“The point is to not get caught, and you making faces at the cameras doesn’t help.” Honestly, it was a miracle we hadn’t been caught yet. The amount of time Tigre spent doing childish things to the random cameras spread throughout the hedge maze was astonishing. What was even more astonishing was the amount of time the guards spent actually watching the footage, or rather, _lack thereof_.

He shrugged. “So? If we get caught, that just means I get to practice all these cool moves you’ve been showing me.” I stared as he smiled at me.

“You’re suppose to practice on the lasers, not the guards. Great-Grandmother El Tigre, have you even-” A loud siren cut off my scolding, and I gave him my best ‘you see?’ expression. He at least had the mind to look sheepish. I sighed as guards came running, and we both sprang into action.

We were almost like a well oiled machine at this point. He jumped, slashed, pivoted, ducked and weaved while I shot, gabbed, sliced, blocked and dodged. We fought well with each other, most of it coming from me knowing all of his fight styles. Even after _months_ of not seeing him fight, I was still able to predict his moves like clockwork. After just a few weeks of training together, we were unstoppable.

“Tigre, go right!” I yelled to him. The guard that had snuck their way up beside him swung their baton, but Tigre flipped effortlessly away, a move that _I_ taught him. It was more effective with stationary objects like lasers or traps, but he still managed to pull it off. I watched in slow motion as his back arched away from the baton, tail twisting to help give balance. He landed not even a foot away from his attacker and swung his fist, knocking the guard flat onto the ground.

I fell to the ground as a baton collided with my shoulder. Too distracted with Tigre exchanged, I hadn’t noticed the guards coming up behind me. Jeez, how many of them were there? Was this garden statue really that priceless that the owner needed over twenty full-time guards? Or were they just so bored and desperate for something to happen that ever guard in a one-mile radius came running at the sound of the siren?

Tigre rushed to me aide, bringing down the remaining guards swiftly using a nearby bench. He helped me up from the ground, smiling something wicked. I rubbed the back of my head, still sore from hitting the ground and the oncoming headache of Tigre’s victory speech.

“Come on,” I said before he could open his mouth, turning to the exit, “let’s get out of here.”

~

We were walking down a sidewalk, the not-even-close-to-midnight air barely cooling down from the day's heat. We had finished with our planned robbery way earlier than expected, probably due to fact that knocking out all the guards made avoiding the alarms a moot point. Tigre held the small statue in one hand, tossing it back and forth. He reminded me of a cat.

An elbow jabbed into my side, and I pulled myself out of thoughts of yarn and string.

“Django of the Brain Dead, you in there?” I made a face at the nickname. He seemed to have a lot of those, most of them unpleasant. I raised an eyebrow at him to show I was listening.

“I _said_ , do you want to go to the arcade?” he said in a slight rush, impatience showing. Weren’t we on the proverbial clock? Why did he want to go there?

“Why?” We did technically have the rest of the night free, did he want to go steal something else? I’d never been to an arcade, but I doubted that it had anything worth more than a few quick bucks. He rolled his eyes at me, shaking his head as though he just heard the most ridiculous thing.

“Because it’s _fun_ ,” he said as though it was obvious. To him, it probably was. He smiled at me in that way that I had come to hate over the past few weeks. I looked away from him, praying to whoever was listening that maybe this time I would have the willpower to say no to that expression. He grabbed my arm and I looked back at him.

“Fine.”


End file.
